On Easter Saturday we went for a walk through a carpet of bluebells and primroses in Captain's Wood, and even spied a herd of deer through the trees. Birdsong is the only sound that breaks the stillness and peace. Well, that and the chatter and laughter of the girls of course. And we were happily remembering a little event of 19 years ago, on Easter Saturday (it was 18th April that year), when the boy and I were married in a little house in Stowmarket that had once belonged to the poet, Milton. The primroses in the wood reminded me of those on our wedding cake.